


Ace in the Hole

by Jubalii



Category: Drifters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Magic-Users, Pre-Canon Allusions, Self-Doubt, Slow Build, Teaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: Despite its greatness, magic can't be the ultimate fail-safe. Sometimes, you just have to go for the guns. To protect the Drifters, first Olminu has to protect herself. And she knows just the man who can teach her how.





	1. Prologue: The Fall of Mankind

**Author's Note:** Ever since rewatching the show for the— I don't know, thousandth? —time, this plot has been stuck in my head. Everyone that follows me on Tumblr knows how much of a shameless shipper I am when it comes to these two… so don't say I didn't warn you.

Also, this story takes place after the last episode of the Season One anime. There'll be spoilers if you haven't finished the anime, or haven't reached chapter 46 of the manga. Anything after Ep. 12/ Ch. 46 doesn't apply in the confines of this story (as of June 2017).

* * *

"Oh, no." The sound of her terror was low in her throat, barely tickling her vocal chords as she watched the fire stretching from horizon to horizon, past the tree line, even farther than the human villages she knew lay behind the rolling hills. The heat of the dancing flames lifted her bangs from her face, the warmth sticking to the back of her neck and pulling the moisture from her skin until a fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead and stung her eyes. She blinked the pain away, squinting and trying to pick out a familiar face in the darkened shadows that permeated the opposite side of the blaze. "Oh, _no_!"

Despite the horror churning her stomach, despite the panic fogging her mind, despite the immense heat squeezing the air from her lungs, she propelled herself forward. Stumbling down the hillside towards the carnage, confusion and fear warring for dominance, she felt in her clothing for the last three stone charms she had. They were the only thing she could use to aid her allies, but she had no clue _how_ large stone walls could be of help now. _If I can find Toyohisa, Nobunaga, or even Yoichi, surely they can come up with a plan!_

She found one of the boys at the outskirts of the village: just not in the way she'd hoped.

"T-T-Toyohisa, sir!" Revulsion and shock stopped her dead in her tracks, but morbid curiosity pulled her towards the body. "Oh… oh my… oh _no_ …." She found herself repeating, hands over her mouth to keep the sounds at a minimum as well as to forcefully keep the contents of her stomach from coming up her throat. What had they done to him?!

It had to have been one of the Ends, perhaps the general that had marched against them on the Orte capitol. Who else could have cut the samurai so thoroughly, or even gotten close enough to do the same? She was unable the count the gashes stretched across his lone form, the crimson armor lacquered blackish-red with blood, the dusty ground around him soaked through as though by a steady rain. The tears spilled unchecked from her eyes as she knelt by him, knees pressing into the grotesquely wet earth. He was on his side, and she gently turned him over onto his back and tried to straighten his _shitagi_ over the worst of the mortal wounds.

"And he didn't even take your head," she gasped in short, choked sobs as she worked. Her gloves quickly soaked the blood covering his form and she peeled them off, placing them neatly over his solemn expression as a makeshift face shroud. She knew that the Satsuma warrior would have considered the lack of beheading a heinous offense. "I'm so sorry… that you're still wearing it," she continued as she covered the serious brow. She could barely look at it—Toyohisa's face should have been as gleeful in death as it was in life. "When it's over, I'll get someone—Nobunaga, Yoichi, someone—to fix it… to make it right by you," she promised him, smoothing the fingers of her gloves over his cheeks before rising slowly to her feet.

The structures around her were burning, some with people still trapped inside. Their screams echoed in her ears, but as she tried to move towards a few of the smaller buildings the wall of fire kept her at bay. Her own instincts warned that the heat would burn her flesh if she grew too close, and even as she watched the blackened beams collapsed and buried anyone unfortunate enough to still be inside the walls.

She wanted to do nothing more than close her eyes, run back up the slope towards the cool safety of the forest, and wait for dawn. But that was out of the question. Even if she was only interested in self-preservation, she had oaths to fulfill. She'd put her hand across her heart, all those years ago, and sworn faithfully to the Grand Master—the Grand Master! She fumbled in her pocket for the palm-sized communication orb, holding it with both hands as her breath fogged the preternaturally cool surface.

"Grand Master! Grand Master, please answer me! This is Olminu!" The orb lit from within as she spoke, letting her know that everything was working fine on her end, but… her employer did not respond. "Grand Master!" she tried again, fingers tightening around the orb until her knuckles were white. "Yoichi! Shara! Anyone?" She'd have even taken Count Saint-Germi at this point, despite her dislike of him. The orb was silent in her hands, its coolness seeping through her fingers and wrapping around her heart. She gulped, sliding it back into its place in her jumper. She had to keep moving. She was a sitting duck out in the open, and if the enemy didn't catch her, the fire would. She could see the flames licking at the wooden gates of the village, which meant that the entire landscape had just become one large ring of fire.

"This is bad…." Ducking around the burning buildings, she kept an eye out for anyone she could call a friend. "Where is everyone? Why aren't they fighting?" Perhaps the roar of the fire and the screams of its victims were too loud, and drowned out the sounds of battle? "I can't be the only one left… Grand Master, where are you?" He was the one who should have been here in her stead, aiding the Drifters. She was a neophyte at best, a mere magical apprentice that had no business being on a proper battlefield, despite the Grand Master's faith in her ability. She could barely make two charms in three days! _Why did I ever think that I could be of help to anyone in this war against the Ends? I should have just run back to the Academy and hid under my bunk like the other trainees._

Again she felt the instinctive need to run far away, but her vows gnawed at her heart. She had sworn to uphold the Octobrist's sacred duties to the best of her abilities, hadn't she? And one of those duties was to aid the Drifters in any way possible, and to protect them with magic if need be. That's why the Grand Master had told her to stay with the Japanese trio, who were the foolhardiest of the current bunch, and would need the protective magic of her stone walls the most. If a Drifter was still alive and she ran for safety, she would be a deserter in the eyes of the Octobrists. And even worse, she'd have failed her own moral code.

Rounding the edge of the village, she found herself in a clearing that had once been the main entrance. The gates were ablaze, wood popping as thick smoke spiraled to the heavens. Lying in front of the gate were two figures. Taking another step, she caught her toe and stumbled to the ground. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a bow, the bowstring snapped. She felt the blood leave her face and turned back, crawling towards the bodies with shaking limbs and chattering teeth. Normally she was one to keep her head during battle, but now… oh, now— _please, let my eyes be lying to me!_

"Oh… Yoichi." The slender neck had been snapped sideways, body covered in lacerations and burns from nearness of the fire; his eyes were open wide and locked in a final state of disbelief. Even in death he was beautiful, a bluebird with broken wings. A lump grew in her throat as she reached with trembling fingers and closed his lids, giving his empty shell some semblance of repose. He was only _nineteen_ , still little more than a child. She brushed the hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. What kind of cruel person would do this to someone who was still so young? It wasn't… it just wasn't fair! _The Ends… the Ends had to do this. Even in their most ferocious battles, the Orte empire never caused this much destruction… to humans, at least._

Finally, there was no more she could do for the poor archer. She steeled herself, still hoping—even as she dreaded that it was Shara or the Grand Master—that it wouldn't be who she knew it was. Who it had to be. Who'd be foolish—courageous—enough to boldly go alone and attempt to rescue Yoichi from his tormentor. She stood, her back to the body, gulping as she stared at the ruined, burning village. She felt that the flames had taken the last of her tears—no more ran down her cheeks. She turned on her gore-grimed heel, her eyes landing first on the arquebus still clenched by a stiff, ringed fist.

"Nobu…naga." With that, it burned away. Her vision of a properly united Orte, of peace that hadn't been known since before her parents' parent's time, of the end of the destruction, the oppression, the fear and hatred that had torn her beloved country asunder for so long, for _too_ long: it was all gone. He had been the key. Had _always_ been the key.

Once, she'd called him a brilliant pervert, a wily strategist. She'd meant it, too. She'd never met anyone as brilliant as him in all her life; even the Grand Master, while intelligent in his own way, wasn't as _cunning_ as Nobunaga. Wasn't as _ruthless_ as Nobunaga. The Grand Master had more at stake than the _daimyō_ , more to lose and less to gain with recklessness. Oda Nobunaga, on the other hand, was interested in power for power's sake. All the Drifters were. They couldn't care less about the Ends, or Orte, unless they tied directly into their own gain. But he'd been working hand in hand with the Octobrists despite that, because their magic was worth it to him in the long run.

And now… what was to become of her? Of them? He lay dead at her feet. She slid to her knees once more beside him, fingering the edge of his tattered _hakama._ He looked to have suffered less than Yoichi, probably as a result of rushing his attacker. She could see the hole in his chest, unhindered by the white cloth he always wore so loosely. Why had he not shot at the End from a distance? Was he caught off guard? Or had he just lost his head? Surely not—someone like him wouldn't have rushed anything unless the tide of battle had been decided and assured against him.

"You… you idiot letch!" she hissed through her teeth, feeling the hot tears despite the heat already blazing on her face from the fire all around her. "When I told you to go die all those times, I didn't… I never meant it _literally_!" She wiped her eyes and moaned. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue." She was still staring at Nobunaga, who had a peculiar look on his face that would have been almost humorous, had the situation not been so tragically dire. She lurched as her tears caught in her chest, the brittle, echoing sound of the voice behind her sending a wave of nausea to her core. Turning her head slowly, she looked to the gate to see two feet swathed in bandages, mostly hidden by a long robe. A staff, a jeweled dragonfly perched at the top and held loosely in a scarred hand.

Strength abandoned her.

"And they that love it…."

Her eyes were the only thing that could move, and even they were slow to follow the shadowy creases of the long robe up, up, up to the murky darkness of the hood.

"Shall eat the fruit thereof."

"Y-y-y-you—" The dragonfly pointed at her as a fat bird flew from the smoke-filled heavens to perch on the bony, cloth covered shoulder. "T-th-the B-b-b-b-Black—" This is what it felt like, then, to stare death in the face? And not even this, for she could find no features in the shadow of the hood, no eyes gleaming at her from the depths, no lines of a nose or glint of teeth in the firelight. Only hatred, torment, and pain. Blackness.

_The Black King._

The free hand raised, gnarled finger pointing at her. Her shoulders slumped; she was unable to run now, even if she wanted to. She felt like a mouse must feel when frightened to death by a playful cat—her terror had built upon itself until she was numb from head to toe with it, unable to recognize it as an emotion anymore. It was her and she it.

"Please—" Why plead? This was the Black King, leader of the Ends, hater of humans. Hell-bent on their destruction, in fact. And who was she before him? A half-bit magician who was too late to save the three people she'd been entrusted with. And yet, still: _please_. The head lifted slightly at the sound of her woe, as if savoring it. An aura surrounded the body, flaming purplish blue from finger to bandaged toe, and she saw a flake of salt bounce from beneath the robes to the ground. Looking up, something behind her exploded in the flames and lit the world before her as a lightning flash before the storm. In the near-blinding light there was nowhere to hide, and as she raised her head she saw the face of the Black King for the first—and last—time.

She screamed.


	2. Olminu's Resolve: I'll Protect Myself!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olminu is relived, irritated, agonized, and resolved all in the same chapter. Bless her, someone.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move.

But she could scream.

And scream she did, a muffled scream, legs kicking out blindly. She screamed and screamed, even as she realized it wasn't the hand of death clapped over her mouth, but a heavy, _mortal_ hand with rings on each finger and a bracelet tickling her chin. Screamed as she found her legs not ensnared by fear or demonic hands, but by her own bedclothes even as she kicked and fought against assailants that didn't exist. Screamed, even as the hiss in her ear wasn't the Black King's rattle, but a familiar, whispered voice too close to her ear.

"Hey, Slow-minu, shut up, will you? Do you _want_ the enemy to find us?" The hand over her mouth shook, jilting her head from side to side. "Wake up!" She took in a much-needed breath through her nose, which wrinkled with the scent of black powder, roast meat, and musty sweat. It wasn't a pleasant odor, but it calmed her all the same as it meant the hand, and the man it belonged to, were very much alive and well. That it had been a nightmare: a terrible, terrible nightmare.

Her mind clicked into 'waking' mode and she pushed away his hand, gulping cool breaths of the night air and still feeling the heat of phantom flames on her face. She sat up, running her hands over her forehead and feeling the sweat coating her skin with a shiver. It had all felt so real… was it a premonition? She hadn't had premonitions since her earliest years, before she learned to focus her magic. Was the stress of the recent months taking its toll?

 _No, it couldn't have been_. _I refuse to believe it_. She took another grounding breath and shook her head slightly. _Premonitions are the stuff of children. Not full-fledged Octobrists. It's not even worth worrying the Grand Master over._ Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she turned to see him sitting on his haunches next to her, his form barely blurred by the absence of her glasses and thrown into better focus by the formless gray of the stone wall behind him, the tapestries a vague mess of color. As she watched, he rested his arms on his knees and tilted his head curiously.

"So, nightmare?" he said knowingly, with his usual hint of condescension. The skeletal visage of the Black King was still in her mind's eye, as gaunt and terrifying as the villain of the tale Count Saint-Germi had been frightening the Elves with earlier in the evening. Her heart pounded heavily at her ribs. She caught him staring and for the briefest moment, wondered if he could somehow hear the muscle pumping blood and adrenaline through her system. Then she remembered her state of undress and yanked the bedclothes up to her neck.

"Stop staring!" she demanded in a sharp whisper, feeling a blush run across her cheeks. It was true that she was still in her shift and rather modestly dressed compared to the way other women her age slept, but anything with bared skin was more than she was comfortable with around a wily letch like him. "Pervert!"

"Hmm?" he grinned, as nonchalant as ever. "Wha-at?" She was more surprised that he hadn't tried to grab his usual handful yet. It was terrible enough that she was staring to think of it as a commonplace action. "Got your mind off your troubles, didn't it? Don't complain so much, Bad-Dream."

"It's _Olmi_ —" she cut herself off, tossing her head. What was the point? He knew very well what her name was. He even used it properly on occasion. And besides, the image of his dead face was still floating in her head, and the fact that he—that all of them—were alive and well made it hard to be properly angry.

"Anyway, you need to be a light sleeper. We could all hear you, but since I actually fell asleep with my clothes on I was the one sent to make sure you were okay." He scratched the inside of his ear with a finger. "You were shouting and thrashing about like a madman. Learn to sleep lighter, and you'll wake yourself up. You're a liability otherwise."

"You can't just learn to be a—wait, you fell asleep _with your clothes on_?" She squinted at him.

"You think it's comfortable to wear all this?" he asked, motioning to the jewelry. "You thought O-Toyo sleeps in all that armor? Even you take off the ribbons and stripes when its time to bed down." His grin widened. "And if you didn't scream like a banshee, no one would have been any the wiser."

"I didn't need to know that," she huffed. "Whatever; I'm fine now, anyway."

"We can teach you, you know. I'll let Yoichi shoot arrows through the archway until you're such a light sleeper that a mouse will wake you. How does that sound, eh?"

"That's a terrible idea! I want to sleep in peace, not in mortal fear!" She bit her tongue, not wanting to launch into a rant that might wake the next room. Toyohisa was still bandaged heavily and hard to keep down if awake.

"Then the Elves can. They're not as good a shot, so you'll have more time to get away."

"Ugh." She turned over and lay on her stomach, pressing her cheek down into the pillow away from him. Maybe he'd get the hint and go back to bed. It had to be early in the morning, with the dwarves already down for the night; she could hear nothing but the chirrup of crickets, which meant the last of their rowdy antics had stopped some time ago. The weight of her chest crushed up into her spine uncomfortably. "It was just a dream. It won't happen again."

There was silence, long enough for her to check to make sure he'd slunk away properly. He was still there, in the same position, watching her. She couldn't discern his expression properly without her glasses, but he looked almost pensive.

She stared up at him, leaning on her elbow. A part of her felt that she ought to be a squeaking mess, but… it was hard to be embarrassed around him. He had gotten so good at riling her anger; even when she wasn't mad at him, she wasn't as awkward as she'd been the night they'd caught and tied her up. That, and she'd gotten used to his ways, what he meant and didn't mean, what was mockery and what was compliment hidden beneath pretense, what was real emotion and what was a clever ruse meant to confuse and distract.

_I do have to hand it to him: he's enough of an idiot that he makes it hard to be bashful._

"Aren't you going—you can go back to bed. I'm fine. I mean it." He nodded, but then reached out. She winced, not sure what he was going to do, but then jumped slightly as he tugged on a strand of hair.

"You look different with your hair out of those silly ribbons," he said thoughtfully. "Less childish, I suppose."

"What?" She looked at her long hair, spread evenly across the bedclothes.

"Of course, no one would mistake you for a child. Not with boobs like that."

"Go to bed!"

His palm tapped lightly between her shoulder blades, a gesture at once as comforting and dismissive as the one Toyohisa had given after thanking her for saving him from the fiery End. He stood, looking down at her once more before turning and leaving without another word. Just beyond the stone wall she heard Yoichi's voice, heavy with sleep, and his answering rumble before a solid _thud_ against a pile of cloth.

"Huh." She folded her arms under her head, resting her cheek on them as a small smile crept across her face. "I guess he means well." She turned on her side, relieving some of the pressure in her back, and buried her face in the pillow.

The nightmare had been unsettling. Too unsettling. She hadn't been able to protect the Drifters, or herself. Her stone charms had been forgotten in her panic. She knew a part of it was just her internal fear that when the time came, she'd be of no help to anyone. That she'd be too weak to save them. But she could only claim self-doubts so far. _There's got to be more that I can do to prepare myself for the inevitable._ Her fingers clenched handfuls of the bedclothes. _And I can't rely on magic alone, either. What if my charms run out, or I can't get to them before the enemy strikes? I have to have another plan of action. Surely the Grand Master wouldn't mind me having a non-magic backup plan, right?_

The answer came to her as she drifted back to sleep, borne on the grating snores of the men one room over.

* * *

The next morning, she was nothing but a loud, yawning mess. After falling back asleep, she had thankfully dreamed of nothing. But the few hours' repose hadn't been enough to save the energy lost from her nightmare, and as she splashed water onto her face in the cold morning air, she felt just as tired as if she hadn't slept at all.

"Yoo-hoo." A finger poked her back and she turned to see Yoichi, holding two bowls of porridge. "Rough night last night?" he asked knowingly. She was about to craft some sort of face-saving excuse when he added, "Nobunaga told us that you'd been frightened out of your sleep by a spider." _A spider?_ She paused, amazed that he'd lied. Why hadn't he just said that she'd had a nightmare? Was it even more of an embarrassment in the world of the Drifters than it was to her?

"I… I felt something on my face and it startled me into waking," she said honestly. _He doesn't have to know it was Nobunaga's hand._ Yoichi nodded.

"That happened to me once as well, although it turned out to be my own hair," he chuckled. "In any case, as long as you're safe, I suppose that's what matters." He looked down at the bowls. "I don't suppose you'd like to take Toyohisa his bowl for me," he mused sadly.

"Uhm… I think you're better in the caretaking department than I am," she laughed loudly, inching away. They were all having a hard time keeping the samurai in bed and on a proper meal schedule; ever since meeting with the dwarves, he had adopted their insane eating habits. However, because of his wounds Yoichi had put him on a semi-liquid diet to keep his digestion healthy and aid healing, much to his chagrin. "A-anyway, good luck with that and—"

" _Hungry_! _Food_!" The call echoed down the corridor and Yoichi sighed, but obediently moved towards the man's sick chamber. She waited until he'd turned the corner before hurrying down in search of Nobunaga. She had been going to wait until later to pose her question to him, but now she also wanted to interrogate him on his lie. It was hard enough keeping him in one spot to answer even half a question, so if she could catch him before Count Saint-Germi got to him with the day's activities, then that would be her best—no, her only—option.

She passed out of the hall and into the sunlight, looking around the camp. The men had opted to stay inside the city walls, but with nearly a third of the city burnt away there wasn't room for them in any of the structures. They'd went back to the tent and fire method that had served them well in the Elf territory without much of a fuss, though she gladly slept in the lower part of the small meetinghouse they used for storage. The Drifter trio slept in the main foyer next door; Yoichi claimed that it was to protect their goods, though she often wondered if _she_ were counted in along with the important papers and weapons.

Her eyes passed over the tall, fair-haired Elves and the small, stocky Dwarves as she walked slowly through the maze of tents that made up the camp, surrounding the Count's carriages. He was usually squatted down by a fire or hunkered over a weapon, so it did no good to rely on his height and build to pick him out of the crowd. _Now where could he—there!_

"Nobunaga!" Throwing back her shoulders, she took a breath and strode boldly through the barrel-chested Thebans that surrounded him. He stood at her call, looking with only slight puzzlement.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"I have… to ask you something… well, two things, really." She looked pointedly at the men. "A private conversation."

"Huh? Oh, fine." He waved at the men. "Go on and fill your stomachs. I'll call for you later. Now," he crossed his arms as they trickled through the tents, hand in hand, "what is it, Boob-Dream?"

"Why did you lie to Yoichi?" His brows rose. "You… you didn't tell them it was a nightmare. Why did you do that?"

"Reveal my falsehood if you want to. I just thought it'd be easier to explain away that way. Your problems are yours alone. You shouldn't have to share them if you don't' want to."

"Oh." She faltered, caught between exasperation and gratitude. The latter won. "Well, thank you."

"Don't mention it." His hand groped at her chest. "Unless you want to let me have a little squeeze as a reward, that is."

"Would you get _off_?!" She caught his wrist and threw it away. "I'll crush you with a stone wall if you keep trying that, do you hear me!?" He rubbed his wrist and frowned.

"Cruelty is unbecoming in a woman. However…." He looked back up at her, a twinkle in his eye. "I think it makes an exception for you."

"Oh, get lost! Forget I ever asked anything." She turned and prepared to stomp away, angrier at herself for letting him get to her than for his actions. His hand caught one of her hair ribbons and she was forced to turn back.

"You said you had two things to ask me. What was the other?" She rubbed her head and scowled at him.

"I just wanted you to teach me how to fire a weapon." She tightened the ribbon around her pigtail. "But I'll get Toyohisa to do it once he's healed up. You'll just take too many opportunities."

"Only if they present themselves." He tilted his head at her the same way he had the night before, and with her glasses she could see the calculations going on behind his eyes. "Why do you want to learn about firearms for?" He showed his teeth. "Preparing to murder us?"

"No! I just want to…" She looked away. "I just want to be able to protect myself, without relying solely on magic."

"What do you need to do that for? You've got all of us." He waved his hand at the camp.

"But what if we get separated, or worse?" The dream played out again in her head. "If I run out of charms, or I can't find an ally on the battlefield, I need a second option." She looked down at her hands. "I need to be able to fight. And a musket could… I think I could…."

"You'd look a man in the eye and fire with the aim to kill?" he asked, voice soft. Their eyes locked and she met his stare as bravely as was possible.

"I don't know what I'd do. But I'm an Octobrist. It's my job to protect Drifters. But to do that, I've got to protect myself first."

"Hmph." He rubbed his chin before grabbing one of the Thebans abandoned muskets, slipping it into the folds of his sleeve. "Well, come on then. If you want to be trained, I'll train you myself."

"Come on? Where are we going?" She followed, jogging to reach his side before falling into place.

"The forest. The last thing you want is to shoot a bystander with those bad eyes of yours, right?"


	3. Matchlock and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diplomats cry and woodland strolls are relaxing.

The quiet of the forest was a welcome reprieve from the continuous bustle of Vellina.  Almost silent, really, and yet not in its own way. Sure, there was no ringing of makeshift dwarf forges, no _twang_ of bowstrings or clanging of swords, but there were rustling leaves, bird calls, soft chattering of woodland animals, and their own mulchy, muffled footsteps as they followed a deer trail around the denser underbrush.

            _The mid-country really is nice_ , she thought as they walked on. There was a certain charm to the towering mountains and expansive lakes surrounding the capital city that spoke to her. It was a pleasant change from the densely forested hillocks of the Elven country, where one couldn’t go three full meters without seeing another endless tangle of branches and steep inclines. At least here the forest was flatter, encompassing the base of a cliffy mountain that she could see glimpses of through the thick canopy. There was something entirely relaxing about the picturesque scenery, even if…. _My homeland is nicer, though._

            “Keep up, Slow-minu.” She obediently picked up the pace and tried to keep her eyes on the broad expanse of his back rather than the mountain above. It wouldn’t do for him to leave her lost in the forest, something she was sure he’d attempt if she lagged too far behind. He walked purposefully, as though he’d been through this same route many times before. _I’ve never seen him taking off from the campsite, but maybe he does find time to explore the countryside._ Then again, he might have just as easily been getting them both lost, and his assured attitude was nothing more than his usual pompousness.

            As they walked, the earth beneath their feet began to harden. Looking down at her boots, she saw fewer moldering leaves and sticks, with green patches popping up here and there. She paused long enough to slide her boot over the surface, feeling slickness as the fuzz shifted beneath her heel. _Moss. It’s moss._ Was there water nearby? The trees were too thick to see the mountain, but she pricked her ears for the telltale sounds of rushing river or lapping lake.

            She didn’t hear footsteps anymore, and looked up with alarm, sure that he’d left her behind. To her surprise he was standing just a few meters away, one hand on his hip as he watched her. She pointed to the moss and he nodded.

            “We’re walking on rock now,” he explained, kicking aside leaves to reveal a stone surface. “There’s a stream not far from here, where the ledge ends. That’s where we’re headed.”

            “How often have you walked this way?” He waited until she caught up to start walking again.

            “Twice. This will be the third time.”

            “And you remembered the path?” she asked in amazement. They had to have been walking the better part of an hour, and they’d gone off the animal trail at _least_ three times.  

            “Of course.” He pointed to a set of trees that had grown intertwined. “You can remember anywhere you’ve been before if you use landmarks.” She followed him silently, thinking over the words. _I’ve been so busy just enjoying the view, I didn’t pay attention. He must have been checking the way the entire time. I’ve got to be more observant around him._ If she could learn just a few of the Drifters’ tricks, it could only do her good in the end.

            She could see a light ahead and as they drew near, it was clear that the trees had reached a stopping point. They stepped into a sunlit clearing, and she saw they were on a natural wall at least a story from the ground. The stream he’d mentioned widened into a pool as it bent around the base of the mountain, cutting a distinct wall between the stony ground they stood on and the pine forest stretching up the mountainside until the tree line gave way to rugged terrain. Standing on the ledge and looking straight down, she saw a mossy meadow of uncut saplings fed from the water dripping down the sides of the wall. A broad, flat stone rose at an angle against the wall, clearly broken from a jagged piece of the ledge and smoothed by centuries of erosion.

            “It’s… beautiful.” She looked at the rippling stream, the calmer pool in the center of the bend, the mossy rocks and tiny trees growing here and there among the grass. Her toes on the ledge, she craned her neck and stared up at the rocky mountain, the soft hush of pines in the breeze carried to her ears over the sound of the water.

            “Hmm.” He let her stand for a moment and soak up the scenery before clapping her shoulder. “Well, let’s get started.”

            “Huh? Oh, right.” She held out her hand for the gun, but he shook his head and pointed to the meadow. “Down there? But there’s no way down,” she protested, only for him to laugh.

            “Of course there is!” he crowed, squatting down and grabbing hold of the ledge. “Here, I’ll go first.” He swung off with the ease of a man years younger, his foot smacking against the wall as he steadied himself and looked over his shoulder. He grinned smugly before letting go and jumping down, landing in a crouch in the grass before straightening and waving for her to come down.

            “I’m not jumping!” she squeaked, wide-eyed. “I can’t!”

            “You have to!” he called back, before holding out his hands. “I’ll even be nice and catch you,” he jeered, fingers wiggling.

            “Oh, go dunk yourself,” she muttered, turning around and grabbing the ledge in the same place he had. At least he was heavier than her, so she knew it could hold her weight. Maybe she could just…

            “You’re not going to be able to climb your way down, idiot. It’s too damp.” She ignored him, wedging her boots firmly against the rock and looking for a good handhold. She slowly scaled down the wall, her fingers testing the slickness of the rocks before she ever moved her feet. She was almost halfway down when she misjudged her left hand. She might have been able to save herself, had she not overcompensated with her right and ended up flailing backwards off the rock with a squeal. She tensed, prepared for a hard landing, and choked back a gasp when her shoulders slammed into something warm and steady.

            “Idiot.” Looking up, glasses askew, she found her feet braced against the ledge and her torso held up by the extremely self-righteous warlord. Scowling at him, she knew her expression was lessened by the fact that her breasts and the long stripe of her uniform had flopped against her chin.

            “Let me go!” He obeyed immediately and she fell, the impact less than she would have had from the fall but still jarring. Her back protested and she rolled to her feet, trying to hide the pained grimace. “Not like that,” she managed to grow. “Who’s the idiot now!?”

            “You’re fine.” His hand grabbed the back of her collar and she was lifted easily to her feet. “Where I come from, women and men alike both fight wars with far more damage than a little _fall_.” She looked, not for the first time, at the patch over his eye.

            “Where _do_ you come from?” she asked curiously. “I mean, Grand Master said you were samurai, and Japanese—the same as him. But… well, I know so little of your world.” She blushed as she spoke, irritated with herself for not asking the Grand Master more before she was sent on her spy mission. If she’d just been more defiant, or at the very least asked for as much information as possible before leaving the northern headquarters.... But it was too late now.

            “Japan,” he agreed. “In Owari.”

            “Owari,” she repeated. “But… that means nothing to me!”

            “And? So!?” He turned on her, offended. “Where are _you_ from that’s so special!?”

            “Nowhere at all!” she shouted back. “I’m from the steppes of Eastern Orte. My village borders the north country, small enough to be of little consequence to anyone except those who live in the area.”

            “So you’re saying you’re a hick, just like Toyohisa,” he guffawed. She felt her face burning, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her cool.

            “I am not!” she insisted. “ _O-wa-ri_ sounds more like a hick town than the steppes do!”

           “You bite your tongue!” They glared at each other another minute before he yanked the gun from his sleeve. “Do you want me to teach you or not?”

            “Please do!” 

            “Then stop insulting me and c’mere.” He motioned her closer with two fingers. She hesitated before drawing near, body on alert for open of his sneaky chest attacks. He grunted and grabbed her arm, drawing her flush to his side with one swift movement. “It’s not going to bite, Boob-Dream. Now, have you ever actually _looked_ at one of these before?” he asked, holding the gun with both hands.

            “From a distance,” she admitted, shaking her head. She knew he carried one if he ever left the camp, and she knew the very basics of it—it was supposed to shoot a metal ball into the flesh of one’s enemy. But beyond that, she was in the dark. “I’ve never really had a reason to pick one up.”

            “Hold it, then. The first step to firing a weapon is learning about it.” He put it into her hands and she nearly dropped it, shocked at its weight.

            “It’s… a little heavier than I thought it’d be.” He let out a quick breath that might have been the start of a laugh, but then tapped the wood with his knuckles.

            “ _Tanegashima. Hinawajū. Teppō._ ” His mouth formed the strange words easily, the Grand Master’s language charm unable to provide proper translation. “Repeat it.”

            “T-tane—”

            “ _Tanegashima_.”

            “Tana-gash-ema.” His nose crinkled.

            “That’s terrible.”

            “Sorry!” she huffed. “What does it mean?”

            “That’s what these are. What we called them, anyway.”

            “T-Tanegashima,” she tried again.

            “Better. Now, the Dwarf metal is your barrel, and the Elf wood is the stock. This brass bit is the firing mechanism. When you pull the trigger, here, there’s a spring that drops the serpentine, which is this little curved doodad.” As he spoke, his fingers trailed over the gun in a careful, loving caress, pointing out each part. “When you fire, it’ll be holding a lit fuse.”

            “Lit?”

            “That’s right. The fuse drops onto the metal pan here, where the black powder will be.” He grinned at her, his face close after bending over the weapon. “Those men were useful after all, don’t you see?”

            “Don’t remind me about that.”  She tried to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at the memory of that open pit, and the decaying stench of all the headless bodies. “I still say it was barbaric and uncalled for.”

            “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “But you’ll be thanking them—and me—when it saves your life by helping you put a lead bullet into an End.”

            “Let’s hope it never comes to that,” she mumbled. Fighting monsters, maybe, but even she might not be worth much against a true End.

            “The powder ignites with a bang. And that’s pretty much it. The force of the explosion sends the bullet out the barrel and into your foe.” He tapped it again. “It changed the history of my country forever when those foreigners brought them in. Just like I’m changing the course of yours.”

            “They’re really that powerful….” She turned it over in her hands, remembering the echoes of the Theban volleys coming from the sphere. “I saw them hold it like this,” she said, trying to imitate her memory of how she’d watched them practice. He snorted.

            “Not like that.” He moved behind her and she couldn’t help but stiffen. “Here, which side is your weak side?”

            “My weak side?”

            “What hand do you write with?” She waved the right. “Okay, then your left foot needs to be just a li-ttle—” his foot nudged at her boot until she scooted it forward. “There. And your shoulders: don’t put one too far in front of the other, or you’ll be knocked off your feet when you fire.” Strong hands took her shoulders and roughly squared them. “Like this. Now lift and brace it against your right shoulder.” She did so, the wood— _no, the **stock**_ , she told herself firmly—against her shoulder. His arms came around hers and lifted it high, so that it was almost in line with her nose. “Don’t let it hang like that. You’re not firing at the ground.”

            His hands guided hers until the gun was in position, barrel pointed straight ahead, and then he let go. Her arms shook with the effort of holding it up, but she managed to keep it somewhat steady.

            “There, that’s enough. At ease.” He took the gun from her and she rolled her shoulders, shaking her arms. “You’ll have to get some arm strength; you’re not used to lifting,” he said musingly, eyeing her thin limbs. “Try again, but this time bring it up from your waist directly into position, shifting your body at the same time. You’ve got to practice until the motions are as easy as breathing.”

            “I’ll try.” She took the gun back, bringing it up to her shoulder as she put her leg forward and squared her own shoulders. He walked around her, adjusting with a hand here, a foot there, until she was in the proper position once more.

            “Again.” This time, she counted two less adjustments.

“Again.”

            “Again.”

            “Again.”

            By the time the sun had begun its downward descent behind the mountains, her arms were trembling and her legs jelly, her shoulder aching from the constant jostling of the wood against her bone.

            “One more time.” Biting back her anguish, she took the position and felt her muscles lock into place. He walked around, peering closely at her, and then offered a smile so genuine, she couldn’t help but return it. “Good, good. I think you’re ready to move on, but we’ll save it for another day. It’ll take us until dark to walk back to the city.”

            “Right.” She looked back at the stone wall. “How are we supposed to get back up, though?”

            “The same way we got down.” He jumped to the broad stone and made a run for the wall, leaping and grabbing the edge of the ledge. With a grunt, he pulled himself up, walking with his feet until he was on top before turning and offering her a hand. She was about to try the jump when, looking at the smooth ground before the wall, she had an idea. Smirking up at him, she reached into her hose and pulled out a charm, putting it beneath her feet. _I just hope I’m not as tired as I feel._ Biting her lip, she pushed her magic into the charm. _Stone wall, down!_

There was an almighty jerk and she suddenly found herself eye to eye with the man, standing on a precariously upright stone wall. Wobbling, she pushed herself forward and jumped the few meters to the ledge. The wall fell behind her, crashing against the rocks. She’d meant to make a ramp that she could use to get down, but the stone cracked in half and fell in on itself. Twisting her mouth, she stared down at it.

“Well, it won’t help us get down, but getting _up_ should be easier.” She looked up to see him next to her, peering down as well. “Quick thinking, Swol-minu.”

“Shut up, before I push you back down there,” she warned, but there was no real bite behind her words. At the rate she was going, he could easily overpower her. She rubbed at her sore shoulder, wincing. “Let’s just go back.”

“Tell me,” he said as he led the way back into the wood, “what steppes are.”

“Sorry?”

“You said you came from the steppes of East Orte. What are steppes?” He looked back at her. “We may have to fight there one day. I should familiarize myself with the term.”

“You’re just _now_ asking that?” She shook her head. “They’re… like the Elven fields, but they stretch as far as the eye can see. Nothing but hilly grasslands and flat prairies for days, sometimes. And the grass that grows there is thick and coarse, not like the grasses here or to the south. But it’s the most beautiful place in the world,” she assured him as they passed from stone ground back to earth. “The sky is an endless blue, and  in winter it’s frigid, but the snow lies like a white blanket over the world.”

“Then why aren’t you there?” He took the gun from her and slipped it back into his sleeve. “How did Miss Village-of-No-Consequence end up fighting Ends?”

“Easy: I’m a magician.” He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “In Orte,” she began, more than happy to part with another tidbit about her country to the outsider, “children who start to show signs of magical prowess are sent to the Magician’s Academy in the north. When the Black King began to threaten the lands to the north, the Grand Master took Orte’s best magicians, as well as the top neophytes, and created the Octobrists.”

“Signs of magical prowess, you say?” he hummed, rubbing his chin. “Like what?”

“Well, it varies. Some children can levitate and manipulate small objects or soft, malleable things like water and food. Some can make plants grow, or make it rain or snow whenever they please. Others, like me, start with premonitions—dreams of what will come to pass.”

“What?!” He stopped. “You can dream of the future?!”

“No,” she laughed. “Premonitions are the stuff of children, and I could never go farther than a day or two anyway. Once you learn to start focusing your magic, you leave those childish tendencies behind. I’ve been a neophyte since I was eight years old, and I haven’t had a premonition since then.” _I hope,_ she added to herself, thinking of her terrifying dream.

“Damn.” They continued on. “For a moment, I thought you might have been of some use.”

“Says the man who can’t do any magic whatsoever,” she retorted.

“And? All I’ve ever seen _you_ do are those stone charms!”

“They’re just the easiest thing for me to do!” she countered, crossing her arms. “I can do more than just create stone walls willy-nilly!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine!” She pointed at a bush, focusing the magic into her hand and imagining it arcing by her will into the leaves. As tired as she was, it was the only thing she felt that she might be able to pull off. The leaves rustled and moved in an invisible wind, but she didn’t have the energy to make them leap from the tree and form the shape in her mind’s eye. “Sorry, I’m just really exhausted right now,” she excused herself, “between not sleeping well and holding that—” she stopped, seeing the look of pure awe on his features as he stared at her. _Of course he’s impressed,_ she thought a moment later. _The man can’t do magic; you said it yourself._ What was laughable child’s play to a magician was an incredible feat to him.

“Can you summon familiars? _Shikigami_? Or divine the heavens? Or stop evil spirits?!” he asked excitedly.

“I’ve never tried!” she replied, backing away as he advanced on her. “It’s never a good idea to summon something unless you know exactly what it is you want—otherwise, you’re just setting yourself up for a major headache… and possibly an exorcism. Magic as I’ve learned it is more channeling what you’ve already got in order to get what you want from the world around you. My charms become walls of stone, something that already exists in this world.”

“That makes no sense!”

“I don’t have time to explain decades of magical theory to you!” she scowled.

“Sure you do!”

“I—” They walked in silence for a moment. “Look, let’s make a deal. You stop bothering me about it, and every day we come out here, I’ll try to explain magical theory to you on the way back. But in return, you tell me about your world.”

“My world? Japan, you mean? Owari?”

“No… well, yes. But specifically _your_ world. You always talk about you doing this here and that there, Demon King of the 6th or 7th or 8th Realm, Minister of the Right, Left, Whatever. But I want to hear more about… well, everything else.”

“Nosy? Or just trying to figure me out,” he assumed snidely. “It’s harder than you think.”

“No.” _Perhaps._ “It’s my job to protect the Drifters. How can I do that if I don’t know about the Drifters? Sure, you’re warriors from another world. But that’s not _you_. That’s just a Drifter in general.”

“Hmmm….”

“It’s the only deal I’m giving you. Either take it or leave it.” Silence. “I guess you’re not that interested in magic after all, Nobu-blah-blah.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Mmhmm.” She smiled to herself. “All talk and no walk, that’s all you are.” She thought, for a brief moment, that he was really angry. But the scowl fell into something like resignation.

“Fine, Boob-Dream,” he sighed. “But with one exception: if I say I don’t want to talk about it, you don’t nag me.”

“N-nag you?!”

“I know how you women are! I was married once!” He shook his fist at her. “Always nagging, nagging, nagging! And then when you yell at them to shut up, here come the waterworks! ‘Boo-hoo, you’re so _mean_ to me!’”

“Fighting again, you two?” She looked up in surprise to see they were at the edge of the woods. Yoichi stared at them solemnly, bow in hand. Behind him, two rows of young Elves were shooting at the trees.

“No, no fighting. We were… uh… being diplomatic,” Nobunaga said.

“I didn’t know diplomats cried ‘boo-hoo’,” the youth replied with a grin. “Supper’s nearly ready, I do believe. Shall we all go back together and eat our fill?” In response, her stomach contracted, reminding her that she’d missed breakfast _and_ lunch. She’d been so focused on her lesson that it hadn’t occurred to her to be hungry until now.

“Sounds great!”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afterword: 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos/comments! They mean a lot to me! 
> 
> Also, I had to dig through my copies of the manga to see if it was Berlina, Bellina, or what. Turns out, it’s Vellina. Who knew? (Not me.) 
> 
> Also[2] , naturally I’m taking a bit of liberty with both Orte and Olminu’s past. As of yet, there’s no clear cut place Olminu is from other than just Orte, which is the ‘human country’. And judging by the few shots of the map we see in the manga/anime, the capital appears to be about mid map, with the little dip down south and the rest of the country spreading north and east. They do say that most of the men are stationed on the Western front, leaving the monsters to the north and the other countries (dwarf, hobbit, etc.) to the south-southwest. 
> 
> Long story short, Hirano is pretty known for lacking a bit on backstory when the mood suits him, so if/until he decides to give more about Orte’s past, we just have to make do with what we have now… right?


End file.
